


Memories that Keep Me Warm on A Cold Night

by anythings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dorks in Love, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Summer Vacation, pls excuse inaccurate descriptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 04:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12291567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythings/pseuds/anythings
Summary: Kenma doesn't care for summer: the heat, the bugs and the yearly trip he takes to Busan, Lev.It takes him four years to realise that his favourite memories are the ones from summer and besides the sun, Lev seems to be the other constant in them.“Kozume-san … are you blushing?”"No.”“Yeah but –”“Listen. If you ever mention what you’ve just witnessed I’ll send Yaku all the embarrassing shit I’ve saved of you over the last few years.”





	Memories that Keep Me Warm on A Cold Night

 

Kenma isn't very good with languages. Or with English, in particular.

He is good with Japanese but he spent a significant portion of his junior high years coming up with somewhat terrible excuses to avoid his English Language lessons with the usual “Ms, I have got a sore throat” which worked for about one semester until his teacher noticed the pattern of his sore throat starting and ending with her class (she wasn’t too pleased and neither was Kenma’s mother). In his defence, his teacher was known for her gullibility that came with being a first time teacher. That and the forged excuse notes got sloppier and sloppier as days passed.

He didn’t dislike English, he could write simple sentences and read some more complex sentences but speaking was never his strong suit and he didn’t like the pressure of his class watching as his voice wobbled and croaked under the unfamiliar weight of a new language. But with that said, he did quite well to Korean. He was able to teach himself most of the language structure and alphabet.

His mother travels to Busan for her work every so often and he has been there with her every summer since he was twelve. He spends the first few visits exploring the tourist traps — Taejongdae, Busan Tower, Gimhae and the Maritime museum — with his mom or his mom and her business or partner or preferably, alone because he is self-sufficient and doesn't need to be with people he knows to have fun. One of these times, Kenma decides to wander past the thick streets of Gukje market that's lined with stalls of foreign and familiar foods to explore the back streets.  And here, tucked between a bookstore and a ramen place, Kenma finds _his_ place.

It was a hole in the wall kind-of place. The brickwork was old and industrial with an unlit sign that complemented the aesthetic but when the door creaked open, it revealed rows of games from one's Kenma played as a kid to those unavoidable American games (like that football game that Kenma, frankly, wasn’t interested in as a petty volleyball player and as an all-rounded human being) then the indie games that sometimes drew his attention. It then led to the cash register where a white cat sat perched, its tail swiping languidly at the air.

Without realising, Kenma goes back to that afternoon he discovered the game store with Lev.

The store didn’t stand out. It was generic as hell with a colourful name, a cheesy slogan and popular games paraphernalia littering the store windows. Still, Lev dragged him all the way there to show him this place that he was certain “would make you feel at home, Kenma!”

And since discovering the game store, it has become his favourite little secret place in Korea. He liked the emptiness of the shop in the late mornings like this, when the market wasn't packed with people just yet and the rain from the night before had settled and caused a tightness in the air that wasn’t normal for summer. Yet, the shop was cool and in Kenma's head, the fan created little swirls of air that whistled around the shop and bristled against his skin.

He was convinced that he could live in the shop.

Much to his mom’s chagrin — " _Ken, how many of your friends can say they have been to Busan? Go explore somewhere else!_ " His mother would reprimand, to which he'd nod and tie his laces a little tighter as he heads for the game store — and dismal.

He had thought this out because if his illustrating dreams failed, he could move to Busan and work with cats and videogames and that sounded a lot nicer than some office job. If the owner, with his crinkly smile and pure white cat, didn’t mind. He was a much older man, who’d been an animator in his youth for some anime that Kenma didn’t watch but heard about when growing up before he retired. And he had a son that was a little older than Kenma but with the familiar warmth that radiated from his father.

He’s never there, though.

Kenma isn’t surprised. Not after their kissing and self-exploring from last summer.

Kenma remembers his crush on him. It’s still fresh in his head but not like a recent scrap of the skin more like a bruise that has started to heal but scars a little. In a good way - a bruise from a night of good, joyous memories. A token to the night that Jihun had taken Kenma for the festival, one summer ago, then kissed him under the fireworks that glittered and danced in the sky. Kenma had rested his head against Jihun’s as the adrenaline pumped through him and settled in his bones, making him feel weighted and weightless all at once. In the most confusing way possible. He promised never to forget his first kiss but with the feelings he had for Jihun hazing up, the memory had begun to fade and crease at the seams.

His feelings for Jihun were just like the summer, coming in a flash of heat and warm skies and leaving with clouds and earlier dusks. He feels that is the glorious part of summer crushes - they aren’t made to be remembered, he believes. The feelings are made for summer festivals and little pauses in time when the world doesn’t seem real and time floats, unhurried, rather than passing undeterred and unforgiven. And as beautiful and consuming as the feelings are, they only last for summer. And when school started, the memories began to fade and replaced with memories from Nationals and Kuroo being recruited at a college in Tokyo and Kuroo’s graduation and 

Still, this logic doesn’t seem to apply to Lev because it’s been almost four summers since he first felt a dip in his chest at the others laugh but those feelings still remain.

And a part of him hates that.

_“It’s gonna be fun,” Lev had assured when Kenma voiced his worries as they were leaving the hotel. His smile was bright, green eyes shining in the evening hue._

_Kenma wants to find his friend and leave. Not really but there are too many people crowded around the fountain and the attractions and as Jihun leads them around the park, he can see girls eyeing Jihun over their shoulders and the hushed whispers are somewhat deafening._

_He ignores them. Kenma is well aware of his sexuality, unashamedly so._

_Kenma knows that Jihun is only doing this to make him comfortable, guiding them to a secluded part of the park to sit and watch the firework display. He knows the older male likes the attention he gets (which he doesn’t understand because that attention Jihun craves, to Kenma, often blurs and resembles scrutiny). He should apologise for making Jihun come with him, for making the festival a chore rather than something exciting._

_In a few minutes, the fireworks begin and Kenma’s words get stuck in his throat. Jihun’s slender fingers reach for his own and don’t let go for the rest of the night. His fingers are much longer than Kenma’s and trace these little patterns onto Kenma’s skin, leaving a trail of warmth._

_Jihun looks beautiful under all these lights._

_(Kenma wants to scream when these thoughts shift to Lev and how pretty Lev would look and how the bright of his eyes would sparkle as much as the fireworks. His eyes contrast nicely with the orange and yellow fireworks. He is stood near the firework display with his hands in his pockets, talking to a girl with brown hair. His lips look soft when he talks, the green flannel that he’s wearing over a black shirt makes him look effortlessly cool and Kenma isn’t sure why he catches himself staring because he helped him pick the outfit before they left the hotel. His jeans are tight complimenting his long, lean legs and the neckline of his shirt dips to reveal the hollows of his collarbones.)_

_Somewhere amongst his confusing thoughts, Jihun nudges him softly. Kenma turns to him, allowing Jihun to kiss him. His lips are soft, the kiss is slow and sweet. A gentle hand tilts Kenma’s chin forward but doesn’t push to deepen the kiss, he likes how Jihun takes the lead because he wouldn’t know what to do with their hands otherwise. Jihun laces his other hand with Kenma’s and smiles into the kiss. Kenma’s lip clash with his teeth and he gasps softly. It is his first kiss so Kenma doesn’t have much to compare it to and a warm buzz floats through him but just like everything concerning Jihun, the feelings fade to the periphery of his mind.  Still when Jihun pulls back, his lips tingle with could-have-beens._

_He realises with a start that maybe his attraction to Jihun wasn’t as strong as he originally thought._

_He allows Jihun to deepen the kiss with a swipe of his tongue. He squeezes his eyes shut._

_A while later, the fireworks have become short spurts of background noise and the crowds begin to disperse. “If you stop loving him next summer, come and find me,” Jihun smiles, as warm and distracting as ever._

_His chest twitches uncomfortably. Kenam doesn’t understand. His brows furrow. “Loving who?”_

_“You know who.” Jihun says, shuffling beside him and groaning a little. “You know who. It’s as clear as the day that you don’t think about me when there’s this other guy that you are looking at, thinking about, probably loving. That’s okay - just, say something to him. You couldn’t even focus on me, Kenma. I am not really bothered but just … leave me out of it.”_

_“I don’t understand. I am not in love with anyone but I could be in love with you.” His chest heaves._

_A sixteen year old Kenma’s chest falters when it dawns on him that this might be a breakup._

_“You could but you don’t want to be in love with me.” Jihun sighs. “Don’t lie to yourself. You know there’s something … someone stopping you.” Jihun replies, he sounds distraught. Kenma is sure what’s clear in his eyes as the frustration clouds the previous tenderness and his chest rises and falls sporadically._

_This is a break up._

_(Later, Kenma would find this ironic as the relationship had never really began.)_

_Kenma doesn’t feel the sadness that is usually associated with breakups. Instead, his thoughts are momentarily obscured by how beautiful he is - even when his brows are in a tight line and his jaw is he’d tighter. He feels his chest tighten because loving Jihun could’ve been so beautiful, so uncomplicated, and so easy._

_“I am sorry.”_

_(And when he tells Lev about the breakup, Lev pulls him closer and whispers reassuring words in the dark of their hotel room and Kenma allows him to press this innocent kiss on his forehead and it’s so dumb but his breath is momentarily taken away. He doesn’t tell Lev the next time he sees Jihun and the older boy’s hands wander as they kiss in the back of the shop)_

These memories, Kenma thinks, are more worthwhile. But it had been a year since Jihun and he was able to stick his first kiss to the back of his mind but as he trails his fingers over the games and toys, the kiss (and the hand holding and the hugs and the wandering eyes and the gentle touches and the false truths of Jihun’s _“I can’t wait until next summer”_ ) come back wistful and yearning, bright like a lit candle.

And for a second, Kenma doesn’t know what to do with himself (or with the realisation that he hadn’t figured out what Jihun meant or his feelings — he isn't sure which is more frustrating).

He catches himself before he becomes pitiful because Jihun has moved on but he still visits the same shop and wears the same hoodie and carries the same PS4 and loves the same boy.

Instead he wonders if his thoughts were personified, would the memories swirl around him in a brilliant green or a subtle purple, almost lilac. He can’t tell but then the colours are mixing behind his eyelids and he feels a small quirk of his lips.

“Kozume!”

Kenma grunts. “You know because we are in Korea doesn’t mean you can call me that.”

“Oh,” Lev hums as his brows pull down and he pauses. Lev looks thoughtful and confused and beautiful all at once and Kenma feels a brief inflection in his chest. “What should I call you then?”

Kenma tilts his head. A silence settles between them as he considers what to even do and what pushes Lev to take him _so_ seriously. “I was joking,” Kenma settles, pushing the hair out of his face.

He watches Lev bristle.

And he reaffirms that Busan would be his favourite place in South Korea. If it weren’t for the enchanting, graceless idiot that was Haiba Lev, an energetic man-child that also happened to be the son of Haiba Vera.

His mother’s business partner and escort on all their trips to Busan. He hates that his memories from Busan are tainted with the presence of Lev - his trips to museums, his feelings of awe when walking along the river, his first time finding the Game store and his first kiss - all had Haiba Lev obstructing the view or in the periphery of his vision.

He can’t believe someone as graceless and enchanting as Lev _exists_.

“Let's go get something to eat!” Lev says, wrapping long fingers around Kenma’s arm and pulling him in the direction of the door.

“Why can’t we go to the ramen place next door?”

Lev makes a noise in protest. It’s almost adorable. “Because we go there all the time and I know Busan’s becoming like our second home or whatever but we can still do new touristy things.” Lev’s word come in his normal pitch but the soft lilt in Lev’s voice reminds Kenma of a song, compared to the gruffness of his own  often unused voice. He needs to stop noticing these small details about Lev because when the fuck did that become a thing (a little voice reminds him that this has been happening for years).

“Fine,” Kenma accepts though he doesn’t have a choice. Not when Lev has pushed him out the door and in the opposite direction from the ramen place.

He ends up falling in step with the taller man. He bristles a little because Lev has purposely slowed his pace so that Kenma can walk leisurely, meaning he is hunched a little. He looks stupid. Kenma feels the need to say this out loud because Lev’s little noises of protest are too good to resist but he manages.

He did promise his mother he’d be a _little_ nicer to the hunching man-child.

“Did you find any cool games?” Lev asks, nudging Kenma a little.

Kenma wants to ignore this question. He knows that Lev doesn’t care but then he is thrown by this genuine interest in Lev’s face - the perk of his brows, the small smile, the bright eyes. “Yeah. Uh, I found one but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Oh, why?”

Kenma shrugs.

“I wish I was better at video games.”

“You’ve got no hand to eye coordination.”

Lev sputters. (Kenma smiles to himself.)

“Not true! You know I play volleyball at school! I am a starter player _and_ the Ace!” Lev replies, indignant as ever.

“I’ll ask Yaku-san. I don’t think you are the ace.”

“Why can't you just take my word for it? I should’ve never given you his number,” Lev sighs, deflating slightly. This only lasts for a few seconds. “I like watching you play, though.”

“Don’t say that,” Kenma grumbles. He doesn’t know how the tables have turned and he’s the one heating up. He doesn’t need to look to know Lev is watching him intensely.

“Why not?” Lev glances at him, shrugging. “It’s the truth.”

He tilts his head, face hidden behind his hair. “It was just some dumb horror game.” Kenma adds, ignoring the warmth in his cheeks. “It looked good in the shop but I haven’t heard much about it. It’s probably filled with jump scares and sudden volume changes. It’s an indie game, after all.”

“I’d probably be too scared to watch anyway.”

“You could’ve leaned on my shoulder,” Kenma mentions.

Lev gasps, coming to a halt. He puts a gentle hand on Kenma’s shoulder and smiles this disarming bright smile and Kenma stiffens a little under the weight of his stare. “I am holding you to this! You never let me lean on you. Are you serious? Can we skip dinner?”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.” The rapid beating of his chest says otherwise.

“To you, maybe. I am really excited! I am not very good with horror but I’ll watch you play anything - you get this really focused look in your eyes and I like to think I am one of the few people that have had the pleasure of seeing you like that.” Lev replies, not missing a beat. He does this stupid thing with his voice that’s a little melodic and Kenma falters in his steps for a second.

He doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure what to do with that information. So he shoves his hands in his jeans pocket and pretends to people watch for the walk. Lev doesn’t seem to mind, Kenma doesn’t want to tell him that _yeah_ , _he’s one of the few to see him like that_. He doesn’t know what Lev’s lack of filter will come up with in response and he’s not sure what he can hide. He’s the one that is meant to have the control but he finds himself stuttering or faltering when Lev’s unpredictable honesty comes to play.

It’s stupid and he wishes he wasn’t so hopeless all the time. He really wishes that was the case.

“I love spending time with you.” Lev adds.

Kenma makes a disgruntled sound. He comes to a halt. Lev glances over his shoulder at him, quizzical stare and all. Like he wasn’t making Kenma’s chest do things.

Lev doesn’t seem to understand the reason behind such an intense stare (which is good because Kenma is working through some unexplainable feelings and when did summer become about exploring feelings, anyway) so instead, he walks the few steps to close the distance between them and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Wanna know what I got up to today?”

Kenma sighs. “You’re gonna tell me anyways.”

Lev enters this tale about his afternoon exploring the streets of the fashion district.

“So you got a super expensive jumper from a vintage place … how were they a bargain again?”

“Well ‘cos these aren’t just any shoes, they are cashmere! And the owner told me he’s had them from the 70s. I mean how many people have a cashmere jumper from the 70s?!”

Kenma wonders what reaction he expects.

“I mean, my grandma has a similar jumper that she wore while she was a teen. Sounds like the same thing,” Kenma shrugs.

Lev bristles. Kenma grins to himself.

“What else did you do?”

Lev has fallen into step with him. Kenma glances up for a second and notices the small smile curved on his lips, the forward tilt of his shoulders as he leans closer and the halo formed around his silver hair from the setting sun and streetlights. Kenma feels warm, something settling in the base of his stomach.

How can someone look so _good_ while talking the most shit?

There’s a sudden rush of heat to his face. He ducks down, feeling a little too vulnerable with the intense stare of Lev’s eyes on him.

“Kozume … are you blushing?”

“No.”

“Yeah but –”

“Listen. If you ever mention what you’ve just witnessed I’ll send Yaku all the embarrassing shit I’ve saved of you over the last few years.”

“Eh?!” Lev gasps, smile replaced with something like a guffaw. “Isn’t that a little extreme?”

“Blackmail is necessary sometimes,” Kenma mutters. “I was going red because it’s _humid_. That’s the only reason. Got it?”

“I am pretty sure you were blu…” Kenma cuts the other a sharp gaze. Lev interrupts himself, looking he he’s trying to not smile. “Red, yep. Humid, got it.”

Lev looks like he is resisting a laugh. If Lev was Kuroo, Kenma would have punched him. Or said something mean enough to quench his laughter but Lev’s laugh reminds him of butterflies and melodies sang in the summer. He thinks that it’s not too bad of a sound to hear every so often. He continues to laugh for some seconds before he calms down, shoulders shaking gently.

Lev tells him about some dinner party that their mothers wanted them to attend but he’d promptly counted them out. Kenma is grateful. Lev shrugs and tells him that it is nothing (Kenma’s mind screams that it is _somethingsomethingsomething_ ). He allows himself to fall behind Lev for a second to catch his breath but the taller man stops in his tracks and gives him this reassuring smile. Kenma looks away. He feels like that smile has been burnt, embedded in his memory as something beautiful. It’s been eternalised like a setting sun that lights him up in this brilliant hue.

Lev has to snap him out of his thoughts a few times but the walk isn’t too long.

He promises to listen better but Lev brushes him off. It dawns on him that this isn’t the first time he’s been caught daydreaming while he’s with Lev.

Lev looks different this year.

There’s a piercing that dangles from his right ear, glinting over the streetlights. Another at the top of his ear. Kenma thinks he looks a little stupid with the dangling one. He also thinks he looks like someone out of a magazine, not someone that you’d find walking alongside Kenma Kozume but someone Kenma would spare a look at on a billboard while in the car.

He’s wearing a white hoodie and his jeans are rolled up to reveal his ankles and a hint of pale skine. His silver hair falls into bright eyes, head tilted to the clouds as he talks. His glasses fall forward a few times, he pulls them from his hair and tucks them into his back pocket.

For a moment, he thinks about how much Lev has changed since last summer. (He thinks of how little he has changed.)

Lev orders for them when they are seated at this Japanese restaurant that’s scattered with small groups all hunched over their dinner, speaking lightly. There’s some ambient music playing, Kenma imagines it floating through the air and mingling with the conversations. It’s his favourite kind of restaurant so he forgives Lev a little. He orders a plate of yaki udon for himself and chicken cutlets for Kenma (Kenma has a feeling this is because he wants Kenma’s miso soup but doesn’t comment on that).

Kenma cringes to himself when the waiter offers soju to Lev because he’s the older one. He doesn’t bother to correct this when Lev declines the offer with the confidence of someone who is allowed to have fucking alcohol.

“You know, one of these days I’m gonna accept the alcohol and just roll with it.”

Kenma hums. He scrolls through his camera roll.

There’s a delighted lilt in Lev’s voice. He sounds like he’s singing and Kenma would listen for as long as Lev would let him. Kenma’s chest feels like it is caving in on itself.

“You think I should?” Lev prompts, leaning forward to evade Kenma’s personal space with this stupid smile that he doesn’t see but hears. It’s with a start that Kenma realises he can predict the other’s expression and visualise them. He stares at his phone harder.

“I think you’ll be asked for ID because this is a respectable establishment. If you aren’t, I am not helping you home.”

“So mean.”

Lev deflates, shifting backwards with a huff. This doesn’t last for more than two seconds before he’s shrugging and telling Kenma the plot of this convoluted film he watched some months ago. It’s kinda dumb but Kenma finds himself captivated in the way Lev talks with his whole self. His hands move animatedly and each word is rushed, almost like there’s a timer somewhere. The plot somewhere shifts to talk of Yaku and his summer plans. Kenma listens but sighs to himself as he wonders if Yaku means to Lev what Kuroo means to Kenma or if there’s something more from the adoration that he uses to speak of the other.

He doesn’t want to think too much about that. He’s not sure if his heart can handle that.

“Hey, Kenma-san?” Lev starts, elbows propped on the table with this curious look in his eyes.

An hour or two have passed, Lev and Kenma finished their meal and sip on hot tea.

Kenma lifts his gaze from the dark wood of the table in acknowledgement.

Lev seems nervous. His gaze shifts to his phone for a quick second and his fingers are quick to lock the phone. It’s a stupid thing to notice but Kenma can feel the nerves and imagines the younger bouncing his knee under the table. He resists the urge to check.

“How do you confess to someone you like?” Lev begins

Kenma’s stare is blank. His chest beats harder and his mouth goes dry. He does his best to not choke on his tea. “It depends on the person and how much you like them, I guess.” He is surprised at the evenness in his tone when his insides are doing the opposite and his toes curl in his boots.

“Have you ever confessed to someone?”

If Kenma were Bokuto Koutaro or Kuroo Testurou, he’d dramatically roll his eyes and probably make a funny joke to shift the conversation. He’s neither of these people.

“No, I haven’t. I have been confessed too, though.”

“Jihun?” There's a glint in Lev's eyes that Kenma can't recognise. Lev breaks the eye contact first, reaching for his drink.

“Ah, yeah. He was very straightforward about his feelings. He didn’t try to hide them. His ‘I think I like you’s’ slowly changed to ‘I like you’s’ and given more time … would’ve probably grown to more. He was very self-confident, though.” Kenma answers, his voice shakes a little. If Lev notices, he doesn’t acknowledge. “Is this the same with the person you want to confess to?”

“Oh gosh, no. I think that he hates me sometimes but then there’s these moments that he is super nice and being around him makes me feel unstoppable sometimes. I feel like I am running out of time, too. Like our time together is limited and I wanna say something.” Lev replies. Kenma notes how the younger male looks more mature than he’s ever seen him. “Uh, what do you think I should do?”

One thing to note is that Kenma works hard to avoid embarrassing himself. But as his brain collects the words, he finds himself coughing lightly on his tea. _He?!_ Kenma’s brain scrambles. His grip tightens on the mug tightens. Lev shoots him a concerned glance. _How can he just come out so casually? Like it is no big deal! It’s literally the biggest deal there is!_ He makes the executive decision to stop drinking his tea. An image of Yaku flashes through his head but he shakes his head lightly, pushing the thought of who Lev likes out.

“Do you think he’ll reply positively? Or would he reject you?” Kenma forces himself not to put emphasis on the pronouns.

Lev’s hand moves to the base of his neck, Kenma’s gaze follows. “I can never tell with him.”

Kenma distinctly remembers mentioning his lack of experience in the field. He’s not sure how Lev thinks he can be helpful so he flashes him a little smile and shrugs as nicely as can. Lev nods, seeming to notice Kenma’s discomfort because his sagged shoulders lift and takes a deep breathe. Kenma knows the conversation is over but a part of him wants to go back … ask more questions, learn more about this person that has captured Lev’s attention, picture them then bask in his own petulant sadness (because the one to capture Lev’s attention _must_ be wholly beautiful).

Despite himself, Kenma grabs his phone and writes out a simple message to Kuroo.

_im gonna tell him_

He mutes his phone after that, ignoring its incessant flashing as Lev changes the topic. He tries not to think about it too much, ignoring the sinking in his chest.

_A younger Kenma walks beside his mother._

_Haneda Airport is as fascinating as ever. Especially for twelve year old Kenma. It is his second time out of Japan, the first leading him to Seoul and his second time in Korea. He grips his mother’s arm as they clamber out of their taxi and into the airport. In awe, he observes the families and businessmen in the airport. He can’t help but watch the people rush for their planes, trailing suitcases or small children behind them._

_He doesn’t say much as the tedious process begins - ‘boarding pass, please’ ‘seat number, please’ ‘passport, please’ - he doesn’t have much to say. So he begs his mother to let them seat near one of the floor to ceiling windows so he can watch the planes._

_In seconds, Kenma is glued to the view._

_He doesn’t close his eyes. He wants to commit the view to memory (because younger Kenma doesn’t realise that these trips will become frequent after the purpose of the trip for his mother is successful). So he plasters himself to the glass, drawing swirls of air as planes take off and swooshes of air when planes land._

_He doesn’t think that he is particularly creative. He doesn’t know much about planes when his memories of being on one are almost non-existent. So instead, he creates stories for the people on these planes and tries to predict their destinations based on little to no evidence._

_“It’s so beautiful,” comes a voice to his left. Kenma isn’t bothered but he also remembers his mother's stern warning to not talk to stranger so he nods instead of filling the space between them with words. And silence ensues but this doesn’t last. “Have you ever been on one?”_

_Kenma nods._

_“Cool, I haven’t. It’s gonna be my first time and I am headed to Busan,” the voice continues and Kenma can tell it is a young child, too. “Where’d you go? Or where are you going? Or, wait! Answer both!”_

_He wonders if the kid beside him hadn’t been told by their mother to not talk to strangers either. He almost wants to tut at them but instead he continues to stare ahead. Another silence ensues and Kenma considers returning to his seat._

_“Oh! Lev! You need to stop running off like that. You gave me a scare!”_

_Kenma recognises the taller woman that comes into view (and he recognises her because he had to tilt his head as far as he could the last time he met her, too). And he realises that this is his mother’s business partner which means -_

_“But look, mum. The view! And I’ve made a new friend though he doesn’t speak much.”_

_“Oh, seems like you have met Kozume-kun’s son.” Haiba-san crouches down to Kenma’s eye level with a smile that is as warm and as catlike as he remembers it being. He knows that he has met her a total of three times and he also knows that her son has never been mentioned either of those times. “Ah! Looks like our sons are bonding already, Aimi,” the boy’s mother continues and Kenma notes that his mother is now standing behind him._

_As their mothers talk, he finally looks up at Lev._

_And he feels a small gasp leave his lips._

_Lev is tall. Yet, that is not the feature that strikes Kenma._

_His eyes._

_His eyes glitter wonderfully in the afternoon sun. His eyes remind Kenma of pools of emeralds when the sun hits them - begging to be noticed and adored as they glitter. They are wonderful and a pretty green that Kenma doesn’t quite know to describe but he becomes aware of one thing at the tender age of twelve._

_He is very much attracted to boys._

_Painstakingly so._

_(For a while he blames puberty but then, these feelings don’t disappear year after year after year.)_

  
“I am so glad that our hotel is so close to the city,” Lev sighs.

The two of them sling into their room.

It’s a nice room – two queen sized beds, a television hung across the beds, a console set stretches across the room with a closet and ensuite – he can’t count how often he’s been to this same hotel but he’s on first name basis with the concierge and Lev has met the older man’s daughter who is doing a year abroad in Japan. Kenma came up with every shitty excuse to not meet the girl. Lev tosses himself on the bed, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it in the general direction of the closet all at once. Kenma never thought he’d be this attracted to someone as much of a slob as Lev is. He drops on his bed, folding his legs under himself then scrolling through the messages that Kuroo has sent him to motivate him while he confesses. He can actually see Kuroo grinning like the little shit he is. He ignores the messages. A silence has engulfed the room. It’s comfortable and Kenma smiles to himself when new indignant messages flood in from Kuroo begging to not be ignored and apologising. Maybe Kenma is a sadist because something happy flutters in his chest and a laugh softer than an exhale falls from his lips. Maybe he just likes to see Kuroo to suffer a little.

“Hey, Ken.”

“Hm?”

“I wish we’d talk more when we left this little hotel room.”

“I … what?”

“I miss you, is what I’m saying.” Lev sighs, Kenma glances over but the idiot is staring at the ceiling with this wistful look in his eyes. And honestly, what the fuck? “I think about you all the time when summer ends like what you are doing or if you miss me too because the one month isn’t enough and I’m greedy and … I want to be with you all the time. So maybe, sometimes. I don’t know. Not often. We could like video call? Or … we don’t live too far from each other so we could … I, um. Hang out?”

“Lev, you are a fucking idiot.” Kenma replies, his phone lays abandoned behind him and he’s staring at the taller male with this horrified look on his face.

“No – wait, what? Did you just swear?” Lev gasps, an appalled look gracing his face. Kenma doesn’t want to point out that he spends most of his internal monologues swearing. Lev would probably get a nosebleed. He shakes his head, almost like he’s refocusing himself. “Wait, that’s not important. What’d I do? Is hanging out with me _that_ terrible of an idea?! I know I am not Kuroo-san or whatever but I … I think about you a lot and seeing you in summer isn’t enough anymore. I miss you a lot and it sucks. I wanna see you whenever I want … want to text you but I … I also don’t wanna bug you. This holiday is up soon and I’ve been planning to say this all month. Do you really dislike me that much?”

 “I can’t believe this is happening,” Kenma mutters, dragging a shaky hand down his face because this seems like a really bad prank.

“I … Okay, sorry for suggesting it! Just forget it, okay? I didn’t know I was that repulsive to you.” Lev responds, there’s a crumpled look on his face. Almost like he’s been regretted. Kenma wants to punch him because that expression should be on his face not Lev and he hates seeing the idiot sad and he hates that he’s the one making him sad and he hates how easy Lev has spoken about his feelings when Kenma has been brewing over his for years and he wishes he wasn’t this tongue-tied. 

Kenma’s brows crumble. “You are infuriating! _I_ was meant to do the confessing!” He bites down on his lip, squeezing his eyes at the sensation.

“… What?” Lev sniffles. Kenma wants to laugh at how childlike he looks and cry because he can’t believe his dramatic confession was ruined by the idiot he wanted to confess too.

Kenma realises the younger male’s eyes are watering. Lev looks young, eyes pooling with frustration and there’s this innocence that exudes off him and Kenma wants to ruin him but also, cuddle him.

“Lev, you idiot. I was meant to do the confessing! I have liked you for … so long but this … you can just speak so easily. And I hate that I’ve been carrying these feelings around all this time but you don’t hesitate to tell me … it’s just! It’s frustrating, okay? And I’m upset with myself for making you upset and with you for being … so you. I – I like you, okay?”

His thoughts flash to the night before at dinner and Lev’s crush.

“I sometimes wish I didn’t. It’d be so much easier if I liked Jihun.” Kenma adds, his voice trailing off.

“You like me?”

“Don’t act so surprised … I have liked you for as long as I have known you,” Kenma snaps, bowing his head and gripping the bedsheets as his cheeks heat up.

Feelings are stupid.

“You have?”

_Is he mocking me?_

“It wasn’t obvious?”

Kenma hears him shaking his head. There’s a silence that takes over. Lev’s breathing is evening out while Kenma’s lungs feels more inconsistent, like they are about to give out on him. He shivers, suppressing a bitter laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Oh.” It comes out as an exhale and if their room wasn’t so quiet, Kenma would not have heard him. He wants to cry.

Confessions are supposed to be dramatic, theatrical even. Or that’s what he sees in the Korean drama his mom has been following for months.

He sighs.

“Hey,” Kenma starts, holding Lev’s gaze for the first time since the two walked in. “I’ll go to my mom’s hotel room if I’ve made things awkward. Uh, sorry for springing that on you.”

He grabs his phone.

It’s about time he found an excuse to stop coming on these trips. He’s not a preteen anymore. He realises that Lev was possibly what kept his heart rooted in Korea for so long. He resists the urge to sigh again, slipping on his trainers at the door. His fingers humble with his laces and he thinks back to Jihun and how the older male managed to remain so composed while Kenma rejected him. How Jihun was able to smile and laugh with him for the week after that when Kenma messaged him to meet up, laughed at his jokes, leaned on him as one would to someone they loved; someone they hadn’t loved back.

Kenma’s about to leave when long fingers reach out for him. He’s pressed against the wall and he feels Lev’s lips against his before he has much time to think about it. Lips clumsily caress his own, all gentle brushes and soft movements. It’s simple and sweet and all that Kenma wants. There’s something about this kiss, the ache in his lungs unravel and gives way for the blossoming of this beautiful feeling that Kenma can’t explain. He makes a quiet hum, Lev shifts a hand to his waist and leans closer. Kenma feels the tilt of his lips as he smiles into the kiss. Kenma has this image of summer and love and warmth and Lev imprinted on his eyelids – it feels right to be here with Lev’s lips against his, just right.

“I like you too.” Lev says, the two of them pulling apart. Their chests equally heaving. “I was so happy when you broke it off with Jihun. I realised then … when I saw him kiss you at the festival that. I … fuck, Kenma. I’ve liked you for so long. Do you have any clue how pretty you are?”

Kenma’s lips quirk in a smile. "Don't call me that." Kenma tries to grumble but the brightness of Lev's smile throws him off.

Maybe confessions aren’t that bad, after all.

 

Kenma sits at the airport. It’s a night flight to Tokyo, this time. He’s wearing joggers and a comfortable hoodie with these shoes Lev persuaded him to get. He’s sat near the glass panels again, watching the planes landing and taking off. He’s got his earphones in, listening to some soft music that makes him reminiscence to that first time. He smiles to himself because so much has changed this summer and normally, change doesn’t sit well in the depths of his stomach. Change makes him feel disoriented, unstable but this change makes him smile widely, clench his fists in excitement. _Lev_ makes him smile widely, clench his fists, scream, do all the things someone in love would.

An arm wraps around his shoulder and Kenma leans into the comforting presence of the other.

“Hey.” Lev starts, pressing this simple kiss to his forehead.

Kenma leans forward and closes the distance between their lips in a soft kiss.

“Hey.”

**Author's Note:**

> okay... whew
> 
> writing this has been torture but im glad i pulled through. i quite liked it and i hope you did too! share your thoughts w me ~


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